


Wardrobe Skeleton

by MiniNefarious



Category: Knock-Knock (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Short, Soft Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:00:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26278291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniNefarious/pseuds/MiniNefarious
Summary: The lodger looks inside a small bedroom. He ignores what's happening around him.A very short writing exercise written for Sleepless September 2020.
Kudos: 6





	Wardrobe Skeleton

For the fifth night in a row, the lodger set out to patrol the unfamiliar halls of his home.  
He was having trouble sleeping since the disappearance of his diary, and unsuspecting leaves continued to slip under the doors. The windows were never opened, it was too cold outside, never mind the foliage piling up in dark corners.

Shaking a recently lit match out, the lodger began to trudge towards what he remembered to be the guest bedroom, candle in hand. Lightning shook the foundation of the old cabin, audible sparks of a light bulb burning out was heard. The lodger paid no mind. He wouldn’t look. It was only a storm, after all.

Unlocking the door with an old key, the lodger let the door creak open. Silence, except for the wind rattling the fragile windows. “Dry storm,” he muttered to himself. Those were always the most dangerous, no rain to put out any fires. Continuing towards the center of the room, the lodger pulled on a little metal chain, causing the small light bulb overhead to buzz to life.

The room was normal, like usual. There was no skeleton in the wardrobe.

_L I A R_

Walking past the wooden furniture, the lodger brought his attention to a piece of scrap paper on the ground. Maybe it used to be a part of his diary.

The empty sockets bored into his back.

__

_‘Dry, bitter memories.  
A memorial at the edge of the hill.  
Three dead pine trees.  
Metamorphosis.’_

He didn’t write this, but the page had his handwriting. Maybe he had written it long ago, forgotten. No one could have forged it, because no one else was here.

Even if there was an undeniable presence in the wardrobe.

Turning back to the door, the lodger kept his eyes trained ahead, walking straight out. He would check the attic next.

It was silly to imagine skeletons in closets. He had nothing to hide from. Nothing at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Extremely short, but I wanted to get my foot in the door and start out small. If you're interested in the prompt list, you can find it at my tumblr [here](https://tyk-tyk-tyk.tumblr.com/post/627914473282355200/sleepless-september-is-almost-here).


End file.
